The Hundredth Part
by Starliteyes17
Summary: The first sob felt like a release. All the ones after that felt like guilt and failure.


_O dearest, dearest boy! my heart_

_For better lore would seldom learn,_

_Could I but teach the hundredth part_

_Of what from thee I learn._

_-_William Woodsworth, 'Anecdotes for Fathers'

**----**

**The Hundredth Part**

----

_Kansas City, MO_

It's been a week since the Crossroad incident. Sam's at the bar ordering two more beers when the guy comes and takes Sam's seat in the booth across from Dean. Worn blue jeans, worn boots, old hat that said _Jefferson City Construction Company _above the bill. Dean thought he had the look of a hunter, were it not for the dirty work shirt he wore, the name _Tom_ in cursive black on the right breast pocket to complete the blue-collar look. The guy looked like he could be Bobby's cousin.

"Yeah?" Dean said after a moment, when Tom just stared. "Buddy, I think you got the wrong table or somethin', 'cause I sure don't have a clue in hell who you are."

"Not true," the man said, pushing his dusty blonde hair out of his eyes, then pointing to his shirt. "You know my name."

"Name doesn't get you very far," Dean answered, eyeing a glance over to where Sam was still waiting, half ready to just get up, take Sam and high-tail it out of there.

Tom just smiled in answer, and had he done anything else, said anything, Dean probably would have left. But the smile felt... familiar.

"Well, what do you want?" Dean's eyes looked into Tom's, who was silent a moment before gesturing to the two empty beer bottles in front of Dean.

"Son, you're going to ruin your liver 'fore you're thirty, the way you're going through 'em."

_You spend an evening exorcising a goddamn fifth level demon, and see if you care about your liver_. Dean bit his cheek.

"Never planned on living that long, anyways. You want one?"

"No thanks," Tom answered. "Quit drinking couple years ago."

Dean shrugged. "Suit yourself. Nice to meet you, anyways," and moves to stand up.

"Dean, wait," Tom said, his eyes dark. Dean's own dart to the man, mere slits now, and his jaw clenches.

"Christo."

Tom's brow quirked, but his eyes remained the deep azure they were before. Dean didn't release the tension, though. With Sam around, he couldn't afford to.

"How the _fuck_ you know my name, man? "

Tom's eyes look past Dean to the bar, and Dean added, "Stay the fuck away from my brother, man, or else I will tear you apart. You and whatever evil thing you work with."

Tom glanced up sharply at Dean. "Dean, please, sit down. This has nothing to do with your brother."

Dean reluctantly sat back down, though he didn't know why. _Sam and I should be packing up at the hotel right now, getting the hell out of here._

But he stayed.

Tom sighed. "I just need to tell you one thing, and then you can go and we'll never see each other again, I promise."

"Can you sign that in blood?"

Tom smirked, then leaned forward real close. His eyes searched Dean's for a second, and Dean felt as though his soul was being ransacked. This guy might not be a demon, hell maybe not even evil, but Dean was pretty sure he was something supernatural. But then why did Dean feel an instinctive layer of _safe_ all around him?

"It was for you, not because of you, son. It was _for_ you."

Dean waited for the rest, but Tom just sat back, closed his eyes and sighed quietly, then began to stand up.

Dean felt like a fog of protection had been lifted, and was instantly replaced by one of confusion.

"What the hell, man? That's it? You needed to tell me that?"

Tom pushed in his chair. "Yup."

"That's _it_? That's _all_?"

"Sure looks like it, doesn't it?" Tom's brow furrowed, and then he pulled a twenty out of his pocket and put it on the table. "Uh, that too. But it's not part of the message. You boys might need a cab back to wherever you're staying, is all."

Tom began to turn away. Dean's jaw dropped. "Dude, what the _fuck_?"

"Have a good night, Dean."

Dean watched in utter bewilderment as Tom walked out of the smoky room and into the night.

"Dean? What're you looking at?"

"Nothing, Sammy. It was nothing."

----

"You got room for an old gal like me, young man?"

Sam startled. He hadn't even noticed the woman's approach.

Being pissed off might be a good reason for distraction for a regular person, but for a Winchester?

"_Keep up your guard at all times, Sammy. Knowing your surroundings will keep you alive."_

Sam's jaw clenched momentarily before he glanced back up at the old lady and put on his best fake smile.

"Uh... sure," he answered, nodding slightly and moving over the extra couple inches he could spare. He took up at least half of the park bench easily.

The woman plopped down, than took an audibly long breath.

"Smell that fresh air? It's a beautiful evening."

"Yeah," Sam said, a little annoyed. Normally he was good with people – especially old ladies – but tonight he didn't have any patience left for it.

Dean could exasperate even the most virtuous of people, and Sam as usual was not an exception.

_Damn it Dean, why do you have to be such a stubborn jerk all the-_

A hand obscured Sam's view of the snowy, empty park and its few leafless trees.

"I'm Annie. What's your name?"

Sam took the hand. "Um... it's Sam."

"Hi Sam. What's a nice young man like you doing out here by your lonesome?"

"Just wanted to take a walk. Get out in that fresh air an' all."

Sam hadn't been able to take the sarcasm out of his voice. Too many hours running circles with Dean's off-beat sense of humor, trying to get him to say something _real_, had driven Sam to desperate measures. He just wanted to think.

"No need to be snooty with me, Sam. I'm just trying to be friendly."

Sam's head turned so fast he thought he thought he heard his neck snap. He was sure he'd never met this woman before, but she sounded so familiar. Like she could read his thoughts or something, like she already knew him.

She reminded him of Missouri. Sam smirked.

"What's with the snicker?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. You just remind me a lot of someone I met once."

"Oh. Well then, maybe you'll have an easier time telling me what's on your mind."

Sam stared. Annie shrugged.

"Honey, even that beautiful thick head of hair can't hide the fact that you are thinking hard on something, or somebody. And if there's one thing I've learned in this life, it's that it's best to talk about it before you find different ways to let it out, ones that aren't so healthy. So tell me: is it a girlfriend?"

Sam bit his lip and turned his gaze on his shoes. "No."

"Okay. Boyfriend, then?"

Sam looked up in surprise, then let out an empty chuckle. "No. Definitely not a boyfriend."

Annie raised her eyebrows so they disappeared beneath her white curls. "Well?"

Sam sighed. "It's my brother."

Annie smiled knowingly. "Ah yes. Those older brothers, they can be a pain. Especially when they won't tell you what's going on. I hate being left out of the loop."

"Dean's just being so different. Things were fine when we went out last night, at least I thought so anyways. I mean, we'd had a tough night at work, but everything had been fine in the end. But once we left the bar, he was acting so different. Trying to hide something from me." Sam half-smiled. "I mean, he does that all the time, thinks he needs to protect me and all, but..."

"But this time you can tell that whatever it is, it's really bothering him, more then usual?" Annie prodded.

Sam looked into her eyes. "Yeah."

Annie smiled. "And you just want him to feel like he can share it with you, so you can help carry the burden he thinks he needs to have all on his own?"

Sam nodded, a little awed. "Yeah. How'd you know all that?"

"You know what I think you need to do, Sam? I think your brother is probably sitting back in your hotel room, worried sick because you're not answering your cell and it's a cold one tonight. I think that once you get back and see how worried he is about you, you won't be angry anymore. Sometimes, it's just better to let these things go."

She sounded sure, way too sure of herself. Sam took a deep breath, slipping his hand into his pocket, trying to feel for his pocket knife. Cursed himself mentally when all he felt were the pack of cigarettes he'd bought to help calm his nerves. He didn't smoke yet, but Dean had made him seriously consider the idea.

Tense, Sam muttered, "Christo."

If Annie was surprised, she didn't show it. "Sam, I'm not a demon. And definitely not a psychic," she added, seeing Sam open his mouth in question. "I'm just a friend.

"Now listen to me," she said, her tone brooking no argument. "Get back to your brother. He's waiting for you."

Sam didn't know what to do. He was beyond confused – she didn't _feel_ evil. And Sam was good at picking up on that nowadays. But something, something about her... he felt like he should be angry at her, like she was pushing him around. He wasn't a little _kid, _after all. He had every right to be out here in the park, same as her.

But it also felt weird to be so suddenly mad at some random old lady, despite her scary intuitiveness.

He stood up. "Goodbye, Annie," and began to turn in the direction of the motel.

"Oh, and Sammy," Annie called. Sam glanced back.

"Get rid of those cancer sticks in your pocket, son. Goddamn things will kill you."

"Yes Ma'am," Sam said without thinking and kept walking, only to decide ten seconds later that it wasn't Missouri who made Annie familiar.

It wasn't until later that night, when Sam was shimmying out of his jeans, that the note slipped out.

_Sam-_

_He never thought you hated him. Never. He wanted me to let you know._

_-Annie _

Lying in bed that night, Dean across on the other queen sound asleep, Sam let a few tears fall.

It was the first time ever he'd cried for relief.

----

_St. Louis, MO_

They're leaving an old, elegant, very much cleansed brick home two nights later when they come up to the Impala to find a twenty-something leaning against it.

Sam felt Dean tense beside him as they got closer.

"Dude, get off my car!"

The guy casually stood, then glanced back at the black car. "Nice ride," he said. "Never seen a car this old. You fix her up yourself?"

"No, my father did," Dean answered, though in all honesty he knew that wasn't exactly the case. But it felt better to say it that way. Dad had originally kept her in shape, after all. "Who are you?"

The boy shrugged. "Nobody you know."

Dean leveled his gaze. Sam felt his skin tingle, and shivered.

It was Sam who broke the silence, speaking for both Dean and himself.

"Then why do I get the impression you know us?"

The guy laughed. "Actually, we may have met before, I really couldn't tell you. Everything's so different now. So maybe I do."

"Christo," Sam and Dean said simultaneously.

The guy just stared, then quirked his lips. "He thought you might say that."

Before Dean or Sam could question him, he added, "Listen, I just came here to tell both something, and then I'm out of here. I just got my driver's license and a car, and I have plans."

Dean didn't drop his gaze, trying to think this out. The kid didn't feel like a threat, but this time Sam was right here and –

This time. This guy reminded him of Tom, who'd reminded him of his-

"Dad."

The guy nodded. Sam looked from the kid over to Dean, his eyes full of worry.

"Dean, what about Dad?"

"He's here about Dad," Dean said, then without looking at Sam's face, explained, "I know it, Sam. I just do."

"You're right," the guy agreed. "I'm here to let you both know that... god I feel like such a moron for even believing this is happening, but he won't let me alone, you know? He's stubborn as hell."

Neither brother said anything, just stared intently. The guy sighed.

"He loves you, okay? He wanted to me to tell you that he loves you. Both of you."

All three were silent. Sam closed his eyes, trying to will the tears back. Dean eyes flicked away from the guy and out to the street, though it was obvious he wasn't really seeing it.

After a couple minutes, the guy stretched and then said, "Well, I guess I'll just go now."

The guy suddenly startled, glancing around. "Do you guys see my cane anywhere?"

Sam opened his eyes, finally. Dean turned back, then looked around. "A... a cane?"

The guy's panicked face melted, and he snorted and seemed to roll his eyes at himself. "Sorry, yeah, there's no cane. It's just habit, you know? I used to have one, but I don't anymore."

"You break your leg or something?" Dean asked as the guy started across the street.

"Nope," the kid called. "Used to be blind. 'M not anymore though. Thanks to your Dad."

----

They sat in the Impala. It was silent, except for the pouring rain that pattered against the roof in sheets. Neither of the brothers spoke, though.

In his hand, Dean held a small box of driver's licenses. Each one had the same small picture of his father on it.

And each one said, in small black letters at the bottom: **Organ Donator**.

Across from Dean, in the passenger seat, Sam held the driver's license of one Elroy McGillicuddy. A fake name for a real man. Or someone who had once been a man. Had once been a husband.

Who had once been a father.

"I can't believe I didn't know," Dean whispered, his voice barely carrying above the sound of the rain to Sam's ears. "I traveled with Dad for two years, saw him take out these cards hundreds of times, and I never noticed."

Dean turned to Sam. "How could I not have noticed, Sam?"

Sam looked up from the card and out the windshield. "Maybe he didn't want you to."

Dean exploded. "Of course he goddamn didn't, Sam! How many times has he told us that the _only_ way to make sure you don't come back as a spirit, that you're not fucking stuck here _forever_, is if you're nothing but ashes? How many times?"

Sam was silent for a moment, before looking at Dean. "Dean, it could be worse. At least we know now that he's not in... not suffering at the hands of the Demon."

Dean rubbed his eyes, but all the rubbing in the world couldn't get rid of the pain in his head, and in his soul.

"Why doesn't that make me feel better?"

Dean opened his door and stepped out into the storm, the box dropping at his feet.

Dean kicked it the next morning on his way to start the car.

----

_Peoria, Indiana – Two weeks later_

Dean sat in a waiting room, his head in his hands. After leaving Ava's place, Sam had been so morose and shell-shocked that Dean worried he'd gotten a concussion from his grapple with Gordon. He'd immediately driven to the nearest hospital.

Now Sam was back behind glass doors, getting checked out, and Dean was left to wait. And to think.

He'd tried to read magazines, but nothing could get his mind away from Sam. From Gordon. From Dad.

The pressure had been building up for weeks now. Ever since Tom had come into that bar and ruined whatever focus Dean had found since his father's death. It wasn't much to begin with, but Tom and that kid had shattered it to pieces. And then hearing about Sam's meeting with that woman Annie... Dean couldn't keep it in forever.

The first sob felt like a release. All the ones after that felt like guilt and failure. But Dean couldn't seem to stop.

His face was still buried in his hands when he felt a presence enter the room. He looked up, half expecting to see his father there before him.

But it was only a little girl. She stood in the doorway, wearing hospital attire. In one hand she held a teddy bear, and in the other she was carrying a small canister of what looked to be oxygen. A tube connected from the small tank to where it was wrapped around her delicate head, before disappearing through her nasal passage.

She couldn't have been more then eight years old.

"Hi," she said to Dean, and slowly walked into the waiting area.

"Hey," Dean answered, then quickly wiped at his eyes again and took some deep breaths. "What're you doing in here?"

The girl smiled. "Just looking for someone to talk to. It gets boring here, talking to the same people every day. Nice to meet somebody new. What's your name?"

"Dean."

The girl smiled. "I like that name."

"Me too. What's yours?"

"Miriam."

"That's a nice name."

"It's all right, I guess."

They were silent for a while. The girl seemed content just sitting next to Dean, and Dean found he didn't really mind her company. She helped him to focus.

After a couple minutes, the girl said quietly, "I heard you crying."

Dean blinked. "Yeah?"

"Why are you so sad?"

"There's someone I want to talk to, but I can't. Kinda like how you're stuck here talking to the same people. I talk to the same people all the time too."

"Who do you talk to?"

Dean smiled. "My brother."

Miriam looked away. "I had a brother. He died, though."

Dean suppressed a shiver. "What happened to him?"

"There was a fire."

Dean closed his eyes and swallowed hard. _Anything but that. Please God, not tonight. Anything but that._

"I'm sorry, Miriam. Is that why you're here?"

Miriam bit her lip. "Sort of. Mommy says I'm recovering from surgery. Re-coop-er-ate-ting, I think."

"Oh. What was the surgery for?"

Miriam put down the teddy bear and the oxygen canister. One at a time she pulled back her sleeves. Her arms were covered in burn scars.

Dean's mouth dropped open.

Miriam just giggled. "You look funny when you do that."

Dean closed his mouth. "I'm sorry, you just... that must have been scary for you."

Miriam shrugged. "Not really. Before the surgery, I couldn't even move my arms. It hurt really bad. Then I got new skin, and now I'm getting better. Johnny told me I look like a princess."

Dean gulped. "You do. You look like a lovely princess, Miriam."

Miriam smiled, then leaned over her chair and closer to Dean.

"Dean, can I tell you something? It's supposed to be a secret, but I think I can tell you."

Dean nodded. "Okay."

Miriam leaned closer and cupped her hands around Dean's left ear. She began to whisper.

"Johnny's real sorry, Dean. He didn't mean to hurt you. He's really sorry."

Dean's breath hitched. His eyes widened. He couldn't speak, could hardly breathe.

"He didn't mean to make you feel lonely. He just wants you and Sammy to be safe."

Miriam dropped her hands away from Dean's ears and looked at his face. After considering for a moment, she seemed to come to a decision and started to climb into his lap.

Dean startled, almost scared to touch her, but then quickly came back to himself and carefully placed her across his legs.

"Miriam. Where is Johnny?"

Miriam bit her lip again, then looked away. "He said he had to go home. Wanted to go see his own princess, he said."

Dean's face scrunched up, and before he could stop it the tears were falling again. Miriam just leaned over and wrapped her healing arms around him. Dean felt like she was holding him together, even though she was the supposed to be the more fragile one.

Dean could feel Miriam's soft puffs of breath in the hollow of his neck.

"It'll be all right, Dean. Please don't cry. I don't want you to be sad. Please."

Dean gathered himself. He had to be strong, for Miriam. For Sammy. For his father, who had given all he could.

Tom.

The woman Sam met.

The blind kid.

Miriam.

Dean.

Even in death, he'd saved them all.

Encompassed in the little girl's arms – his _father's_ arms - Dean gained back the hope he thought he'd lost completely.

John had saved Dean. For the first time, Dean thought maybe - just maybe - he might be strong enough to save his brother. From himself or anything else that threatened him. If it was Dean's turn to save Sammy, it would be done. There was no other possible outcome. Dean wouldn't let there be.

Miriam leaned back to look at Dean. "Do you forgive Johnny? He was afraid you might not."

Dean kissed the tip of her nose.

"Yeah, sweetheart, I think I do."


End file.
